


Anesthesia

by afterism



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-21
Updated: 2010-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-06 13:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterism/pseuds/afterism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the prompt 'leave Sam out of it'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anesthesia

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler warning a reveal in the first episode of Ashes to Ashes.

CID looks exactly the same in the dark. She expects his absence to be conspicuous, for every place he's ever stood to glow like blood under a black light, but there's still just the desks and the mess and the smell of cigarettes. There's a light on in the Guv's office and she walks across the empty space quickly, the click of her heels echoing, and even though she knows exactly what's on his desk (telephone, lamp, case files, paperwork. ordinary. could be anyone's) she can't make herself look at it.

Annie pushes open the door without knocking, and Gene doesn't look up, sitting at his desk with a glass and a bottle of Scotch. Neither have changed since the memorial service, smart and black and awkward in clothes that feel like giving up. She doesn't know what to say.

"Either come in and have a drink or sod off," he says, reaching for the bottle. She wavers for a second, but then he looks up at her with another glass in hand and she feels herself nodding, a brief twist on her lips, a spark of something from the numbness.

"Thank you," she says softly, taking the glass and sitting opposite him. The only light comes from the lamp on his desk and he's bright against the shadows, something solid and definite and _real_. She wants uncomplicated.

"Gene," she says, half reaching across the desk. Her fingers rest on top of a personnel file. "We should talk about h--"

"Is that something he taught you, the namby-pamby softly-softly crap?" His glass slips a little as he puts it down and it hits the desk with a loud thump. Annie flinches, her throat too tight to retort and, fuck, _her husband_ just died. She doesn't need this.

"Fine," she snaps, and it comes out a little more choked than she'd like but she stands up anyway and grabs her bag, is three steps to the door before suddenly Gene has her by the shoulders and she's slammed against the wall. She hisses, and then they both recognise the movement for what it is and before she allows herself to think she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him, fierce and desperate and unrelenting. He doesn't move, hands still curled over her shoulders and so she pushes closer, squeezes her eyes shut tight and _kisses_ him until he responds, until his fingers are pressing into her skin and it's impossible to stop.

She wants to make it impossible to think. Her hands find the fastening on his trousers and she gets them open quickly, practised, her breath hitching for a moment but she just pushes harder, bites at Gene's bottom lip as he finally pushes back and growls low in his throat. He rucks up her skirt and pulls her knickers down with rough fingers, lets them slide down her legs as Annie's hand gets him hard with a few short tugs and he all but shoves inside her, demanding and shameless. She gasps wetly and he grunts, pinning her against the side of the office and she lifts her legs up and wraps them around him, her knickers still tangled around one ankle, and he exhales sharply but doesn't falter.

Annie curls her arms around him and buries her face in his neck, clinging to him despite how he smells like he's been living at the station for a week. She doesn't think about it. She meets each thrust with a shove of her own and soon she's shaking, sobbing as she comes, her face pressed into his shoulder. He holds her (gently, like she's falling apart) as she drops her feet back to the floor and steadies herself on shaky legs. It still hurts. She still feels sick. He's still missing.

"I'm sorry," Gene says, not looking at her, and she hurries out before her legs give way.


End file.
